#noah!beast

Chapter IX - Is this healthy?

Long time no see. Hello there. I'm slowly trying to get back to "normal." I hope you enjoy the next chapter. XO *** Nyx entered the office later than usual the next morning. Not rushed, not apologetic. Just late in a deliberate way, as if she had finally stopped shaping herself around other people's expectations.

The glass doors slid shut behind her with a muted sound, and immediately the atmosphere shifted. She felt it before anyone even looked at her directly. The tension and whispers dragged too low beneath breaths. The way conversations fractured the second her heels touched the concrete floor.

Nyx kept walking anyway.

Her coat hung loosely from her shoulders, dark fabric brushing against her thighs with every measured step. The onyx around her neck rested against her skin like armor now. A reminder. A mark. Something grounding.

People watched her. Of course they did. They watched because she had disappeared shattered and returned standing upright.

And people hated not understanding something called survival.

Nyx reached her desk calmly, setting down her bag before turning on her computer. Her fingers moved steadily over familiar objects like coffee mug, notebook, pen. Small rituals of control.

Then she heard it. Quiet, almost swallowed by the room itself.

"Have you heard?" - Another voice answered carefully.

"They say Noah's obsessed with her now."

A pause.

"Like... genuinely obsessive. That he watches everyone around her. That he controls everything."

A faint scoff followed.

"And Christian? Apparently he's devastated. Betrayed or whatever."

Nyx lowered her eyes briefly toward her monitor, her pulse fluttered once, but not from fear, but from something else.

Something darker.

Because the rumor wasn't entirely wrong. Noah did watch everything.

Every expression, every shift in tone, every person who stood too close to her desk for too long. Even every subtle change in her breathing when certain names were spoken aloud. He watched her like someone guarding the last fragile thing left in a collapsing world. And the terrifying part in this?

Nyx trusted it now.

No... She relied on it. On him.

The office doors opened again a few minutes later and Noah entered without hurry, dressed in black as always, exhaustion hidden beneath sharp composure. Conversations weakened almost immediately around him, though nobody openly stopped speaking. They simply... adjusted.

Like prey sensing a predator nearby without looking directly at it. Noah paused briefly near the entrance, his eyes swept once across the room.

Reading. Measuring. Absorbing.

Nyx felt his attention touch her before he even looked at her directly. That horrible instinct between them had become too strong now. Like invisible thread pulled permanently taut beneath her ribs.

Then his gaze landed on her. Briefly. Only a second.

But it was enough.

Enough for her lungs to tighten softly inside her chest. He didn't smile, didn't nod or didn't acknowledge her publicly. He simply looked away again after confirming she was there, safe, breathing, untouched and somehow that felt even more intimate.

Noah disappeared into his office behind the glass walls, but Nyx could still feel him there. Heavy, constant. Like a storm waiting patiently in the distance. The whispers started again eventually, because people always circled back to curiosity. Jolly muttered something quietly near the coffee machine. Someone else laughed nervously.

"...it's honestly creepy how protective he is."

"Yeah, like he thinks she belongs to him."

That one.

That sentence. Nyx heard it clearly. And before anyone could continue talking - Noah moved. Office seemed to notice instantly. Conversations dimmed without instruction as he crossed the room with slow, unwavering steps. Not angry, that would've been easier.

Noah looked calm, controlled like always which was far worse.

Nyx looked up from her monitor the moment he stopped beside her desk. Close. Maybe too close for normal coworkers, but perfectly close for Noah. He didn't ask permission to stand there. Didn't explain himself. His silence itself became territorial. A wall built carefully around her. People looked away almost immediately. Noah leaned one hand lightly against the edge of her desk and lowered his gaze toward her. His eyes softened instantly the second they landed on Nyx, the sharpness in him reshaping into something possessive and unbearably attentive.

Something like "There you are." - sentence existed unspoken between them and Nyx felt heat crawl slowly beneath her skin, because Noah's hand lifted then, slow enough for her to stop him if she wanted to.

She didn't.

His fingers brushed a stubborn strand of brown hair away from her face before tucking it gently behind her ear. The touch barely lasted a second, but the intimacy of it poisoned the entire room. Not sexual. Worse. Somethin very protective and claiming. The kind of tenderness that implied violence if anyone dared hurt her again. Nyx saw several people glance away uncomfortably.

Good.

For months she had been the one shrinking herself to survive the atmosphere around her. Now the atmosphere bent around her instead because Noah made it bend. Her lips curved slightly, tiny, almost invisible. But Noah noticed it immediately. Of course he did.

That faint smile hit him like a drug directly into his bloodstream. His jaw tightened subtly as he looked at her, something dark and devoted flickering behind his eyes. He would've destroyed anyone in this room for that expression on her face. And fuck... Nyx knew it. And instead of fearing it, she let herself lean into that feeling. Not dependence, not weakness... but trust.

Deep enough now that she no longer panicked when Noah stepped into her space. Deep enough that his presence no longer felt suffocating.

It felt safe... Safe in a dangerous way.

Noah lowered his head slightly toward her then, close enough that his voice couldn't travel further than her desk. - Ignore them. - he murmured quietly. Nyx looked at him for a long second before answering. - I do. - And she was, because for the first time in months, she realized something terrifyingly liberating: People were no longer whispering about her because she looked weak. They whispered because she no longer looked untouchable.

She looked protected.

Noah straightened slowly beside her desk, his eyes briefly scanning the office again. Cold, warning look. Possessive enough that silence spread naturally in his wake. Then his gaze returned to Nyx one last time.

Softer. Always softer for her.

And Nyx felt it again—that deep, unfamiliar power blooming low in her chest. Not because Noah controlled her, but because he gave her space to stop being afraid.

And maybe that was the darkest thing about the two of them now.

Nyx no longer wanted him to stop. *** The next morning, Christian was already in the office when Nyx arrived.

He stood near the coffee machine, one hand wrapped around a paper cup that had long since gone cold, pretending to scroll through emails on his phone. But the second the glass doors opened, his attention shifted automatically.

And stayed there.

Nyx entered with slow, unhurried confidence, the kind that didn't ask permission to exist anymore.

Something about her looked different again. Not louder, but sharper and more deliberate.

The fitted dark jeans traced the curve of her hips with effortless elegance, the soft blouse resting against her body in a way that highlighted how much weight she had lost during those terrible weeks, but now, instead of making her look fragile, it somehow emphasized her recovery. Her pale collarbones caught faint morning light beneath the delicate black chain around her neck. The onyx stone rested there like a secret only a few people understood. Her hair was twisted into that messy bun again, strands slipping free around her throat and shoulders, softening the dangerous calm she carried now.

Christian couldn't stop staring, because this wasn't the Iris he remembered anymore. The old Iris used to enter rooms trying not to disturb them, this one walked in like she already knew she could survive whatever waited inside.

People noticed too.

Conversations dimmed subtly as she passed between desks. Someone greeted her carefully. Someone else moved out of her path without realizing it.

And Nyx?

She smiled politely and calmly. As if she could feel every pair of eyes on her and no longer cared about that. Christian frowned harder, something ugly twisted low in his stomach. Because she looked good... Confident. Feminine in a way she had never allowed herself to be around him before, and suddenly he hated that Noah was the one having it now.

The office doors opened again several minutes later. Noah entered quietly, one glance across the room — and he found her instantly. Christian noticed that the exact second it happened. Noah's entire body changed. Not dramatically, not enough for anyone careless to catch it, but Christian saw the subtle stillness that overtook him. The darkening focus in his gaze. The immediate awareness that sharpened every line of his posture.

Predatory. Possessive.

Like something deep inside him locked onto Nyx and refused to release her again. Noah started walking before anyone greeted him straight toward her. Nyx looked up from her desk the moment he approached, and Christian felt his jaw tighten at how naturally her expression softened for him.

Not weak. Never weak anymore.

But full of trusting.

Noah stopped close enough that the edge of his black sleeve brushed her chair slightly. He didn't speak at first, his eyes moved over her carefully, attentively, absorbing details with the quiet obsession that had become impossible to separate from him. The fitted clothes, the exposed line of her throat, the loose strands of hair framing her face. And God— the fact that she looked alive again. Something dangerous flickered behind Noah's eyes, and his hand lifted. Slowly and confidently. He brushed one strand of hair behind her ear with intimate familiarity, fingertips grazing softly against her cheek before sliding lower, resting briefly against the side of her neck.

Christian froze.

Because Noah touched her like someone who already knew exactly how she reacted to him. Like someone who had memorized her.

Nyx didn't move away. If anything, she leaned into the touch almost imperceptibly. Noah's thumb brushed once against the black chain around her throat before his fingers closed around the uneven onyx stone resting against her skin.

Christian's stomach dropped.

Nobody ever touched that necklace.

Nobody.

Iris used to pull away if someone even looked at it for too long, but Noah held the stone carefully between his fingers now, turning it slightly, his gaze lowering with frightening focus. This gesture wasn't accidental... It was possessive in the most terrifyingly restrained way possible.

Not ownership, but something worse.

Reverence.

Like Noah understood that the necklace wasn't jewelry at all. It was part of her and because of that, touching it became intimate enough to feel almost sacred.

Nyx watched him quietly beneath lowered lashes, her breathing was steady. She let him touch it. Let him stand too close. She let him invade the space nobody else had ever been allowed to enter.

And Christian realized with sudden horror that Noah wasn't forcing his way into Nyx's world.

She was opening the door for him herself.

Noah's fingers tightened slightly around the stone before he let it slide back gently against her chest. The movement pulled her barely closer for half a second.

Enough.

Enough to make Christian feel sick.

Because Noah looked at her afterward with something raw buried beneath all that control. Something starving. Something that had become too attached to her existence to survive losing it now. And Nyx saw it too. No... It was worse - she understood exactly what it did to him.

A faint smile touched her lips.

Tiny. Knowing.

Noah's jaw flexed immediately in response. Every muscle in his body seemed to react to her without permission now. Christian suddenly understood why people had started whispering about obsession. Because this wasn't normal protection anymore. Noah watched Nyx like breathing depended on her remaining safe. Like her sadness physically damaged him. Like every smile she gave him became something he stored away obsessively inside his ribs.

And Nyx... Nyx had learned how to wield it. Not cruelly or manipulatively. But consciously. She stood taller beneath his attention now. Stronger. Safer.

The terrified girl Christian once controlled through guilt and confusion was gone... In her place stood someone who knew exactly where her power lived now. Noah shifted then - one single step. Enough for his body to partially block Christian's line of sight toward her. The movement was subtle, deadly calm, no aggression in it. No words. Just a silent message written into every inch of his posture: You don't get access to her anymore.

Christian felt tension crawl sharply up his spine, because Noah didn't look like a jealous man. He looked like a guardian animal standing over something precious enough to kill for. Nyx noticed the slight tremor beneath Noah's restraint. The microscopic twitch in his fingers. The tightness in his shoulders whenever Christian kept staring too long.

And instead of shrinking from it, she felt powerful. For once, someone else's obsession wasn't trapping her.

It was shielding her.

Every glance Noah gave her felt like armor wrapped carefully around her body. Every protective instinct radiating from him reminded her that nobody would ever make her feel small again while he stood there.

She tilted her head slightly toward him with a smile, like a silent reward. Noah inhaled slowly. His eyes darkened immediately.

Good God.

Every tiny reaction from her fed something ravenous inside him now.

The trust, the closeness, the fact she no longer flinched when he entered her space. It destroyed whatever restraint he still pretended to have.

And Nyx knew it.

She could see it in the way his attention followed every movement she made. In the way his body remained subtly angled toward hers no matter who spoke around him. In the way his eyes softened only for her and hardened instantly for everyone else. A thread stretched between them then: tight and silent.

Dangerously intimate.

Noah stared at her openly now, every instinct in him focused entirely on her existence. Her breathing. Her posture. The faint smile still lingering at the corner of her mouth.

Every little thing she did fueled him, fed the obsession growing heavier inside his chest every single day because Noah no longer simply protected Nyx.

He lived around her.

And standing there beneath his gaze, wrapped in the terrifying safety of his devotion, Nyx realized something equally dangerous. She liked what he became for her. And Noah, watching her stand there confident, calm, untouchable beneath his protection, felt, for the first time in a very long time, victorious. *** Days blurred together beneath the pressure of tour preparations. Sleepless nights, endless revisions, flights discussed, schedules rewritten, equipment lists spread across tables like battle plans. The entire office breathed tension. People snapped more easily, drank too much coffee, forgot to eat, forgot to sleep.

But Nyx changed within that chaos. Not loudly or dramatically.

Quietly. Dangerously.

She moved through the office with a calmness that no longer looked fragile. Her shoulders no longer curled inward when someone raised their voice across the room. Loud laughter no longer made her flinch. She no longer apologized every time she needed space, needed silence, needed to exist. And Noah noticed every single difference with a kind of terrifying devotion that bordered on worship.

Especially the necklace.

The black onyx resting against her throat had once been untouchable, sacred, a thing she clutched during panic attacks until her fingers hurt, until the stone left marks in her palm... A month ago, if anyone had reached for it, she would have recoiled instinctively. Now Noah touched it more often than she did.

And Nyx let him.

Sometimes absentmindedly while passing behind her chair, his fingers would slide beneath the dark strand of her hair, brushing the stone with slow familiarity. Sometimes while speaking to her, he would hook the chain between two tattooed fingers and tug her attention back toward him so subtly nobody else would notice.

Except Nicholas noticed. Nicholas noticed everything.

At first, it wasn't obvious. It crept beneath the skin slowly, like hearing feedback in a mix before anyone else catches it. Wrong. Too sharp. Too present. He stood by the coffee machine one afternoon, paper cup warming his hand, and watched Noah through the glass wall of the office.

Noah stood by the window with papers in his hand, eyes lowered as if reading. But Nicholas realized after almost a full minute that he hadn't turned a single page. Hadn't blinked much either, because he wasn't reading.

He was watching her.

Nyx sat several meters away at one of the long tables, bent over a notebook. Her brown hair was loosely tied up, messy strands escaping around her pale neck. The black stone at her throat swayed gently every time she leaned forward. She laughed quietly at something one of the coworkers said, then bit the end of her pen while thinking.

An innocent gesture. Small. Meaningless.

And yet Noah's entire body reacted to it. Not outwardly. Not enough for most people to catch. But Nicholas saw the way his jaw flexed once. The way his fingers tightened around the papers hard enough to wrinkle them. The way his gaze darkened with something almost feverish.

Possession. Raw and animalistic possession.

As if every unconscious gesture Nyx made fed something inside him that had long stopped behaving like reason.Nicholas slowly lowered his cup. - ...Jesus Christ. - he muttered under his breath. Jolly appeared beside him a moment later, pouring coffee into an old cracked mug. - What? - he asked distractedly. Nicholas didn't answer immediately. He only tilted his head slightly toward Noah. Jolly followed his gaze.

And froze.

The office remained loud around them. Keyboards clacking, someone laughing near the printers. Music filtering faintly through speakers. Phones vibrating against desks.

Noah heard none of it, because his entire existence narrowed down to one point.

Nyx.

He watched her with an intensity that didn't resemble ordinary love anymore. It looked primal. Vigilant. Like he was guarding the last living thing left in the world. As if the room itself were a threat. - Fuck... - Jolly whispered afterr seeing that. Nicholas exhaled sharply through his nose. - Right? - he murmured quietly. - Tell me I'm not insane. You see that, right? - Jolly stared a moment longer. - No, you're not. - he said slowly. - No, because I see it too.

At that exact moment, someone hurried past Nyx's chair. Their shoulder accidentally clipped the backrest. It was barely anything, a tiny bump.

But Noah moved instantly.

The papers hit the desk before Nicholas even consciously processed that Noah had left the office. One second he stood by the window — the next he was beside her. Not fast, not frantic. That was the disturbing part.

He moved with terrifying certainty.

Like instinct had taken over long before thought could catch up.

He stepped directly behind Nyx's chair, body angling automatically between her and the rest of the room. Closing space, blocking access, claiming her. Nyx looked up in surprise, pulling the pen slowly from between her lips. - Noah? - she asked softly. - Is something wrong? - No. - he answered too fast and sharp. As if his mind had only just realized his body had already decided she might be in danger. His hand settled against the back of her neck - gentle, but heavy. And possessive.

Not controlling her.

Anchoring himself to her.

And Nyx... God. Nyx melted into it naturally. No fear. No hesitation.

Her shoulders loosened beneath his touch almost instantly, exhaustion leaving her body in visible waves. She tilted her head back slightly against his stomach without even thinking about it, eyes returning calmly to her notebook as though his presence there was the most natural thing in the world. Like she trusted him more than her own nervous system.

Nicholas felt cold crawl down his spine. - The bastard's marking her. - he muttered before he could stop himself. Jolly turned sharply. - Dude.... - I'm not saying literally. - Nicholas rubbed his face. - But look at them. - And Jolly looked, because once you saw it, you couldn't unsee it anymore. Noah's hand remained on her neck while his eyes scanned the office over her head. Watching everyone. Measuring distances. Reading movements. Every person who got too close made something tighten visibly in his posture. And Nyx... she knew. That was the worst part.

She knew exactly what his attention did to people now.

Knew the office had begun stepping around her more carefully because Noah hovered around her like violence wrapped in devotion. Knew whispers died when he entered rooms. Knew people watched their tone around her because his gaze alone felt like a threat. And somewhere along the line, Nyx had stopped shrinking from that power.

She leaned into it, but not maliciously. Nor even cruelly.

But after spending so much of her life feeling powerless, Noah's obsession became something terrifyingly comforting. Like standing inside the walls of a fortress built entirely around her body. He watched for her exhaustion before she noticed it herself, he watched who looked at her too long, or who interrupted her. Watched every doorway she walked through like something horrible might be waiting on the other side.

And Nyx had begun breathing easier inside that darkness.

Jolly swallowed hard. - This isn't just jealousy anymore... - No. - Nicholas replied quietly. - It's worse. This is very possessive and unhealthy... Because jealousy still implied insecurity... - Nicholas gestured to the other two while searching for the right words. - Fuck, this isn’t insecurity. This is ownership trying desperately to disguise itself as protection. - They watched Noah lean down slightly toward her, saying something too quiet to hear. Nyx smiled faintly at whatever it was — soft and genuine in a way Nicholas hadn't seen in months. Then Noah's fingers brushed beneath her jaw for just a second before he guided her farther down the hall under the excuse of discussing schedules. But his hand never fully left her. Always touching. Always keeping contact.

As though some part of him panicked the moment she drifted too far away.

Nicholas stared after them and for the first time since all of this started, something inside him twisted uneasily.

Because Nyx looked safe.

Happy, even.

Meanwhile Noah looked like a man starving to death while standing in front of the only thing keeping him alive.

And people like that?

People like that became dangerous without even realizing it. *** The day dragged on beneath fluorescent lights and the endless hum of conversations, keyboards, printers, footsteps. The office breathed around them like some restless creature that never truly slept. But Nicholas could no longer focus on work. Because once he noticed it, he saw it everywhere. Noah's eyes following Nyx every time she crossed a room, the way his body subtly repositioned itself whenever someone stood too close to her desk, how his attention snapped toward her even in the middle of conversations, like some invisible thread tied beneath his ribs pulled tight every time she moved.

It wasn't normal anymore, and Nicholas needed to know if she understood that. Finding Iris alone, however, felt almost impossible because Noah was always there. Maybe not beside her directly, maybe not touching her, but present. Orbiting. Watching.

Guarding.

Finally, Nicholas found her in the cafeteria kitchen near the back of the office. She stood by the counter pouring herself water, calm and composed in that quiet way she'd learned lately. Sunlight filtered weakly through the windows, catching against the dark onyx at her throat.

And Noah... of course Noah was there too.

A few meters away, leaning one shoulder lazily against the wall near the doorway, speaking quietly with someone from production. He looked relaxed, easygoing and like always. But Nicholas felt him instantly, like pressure against the spine. Like standing too close to something dangerous pretending to sleep. - Hey, Iris. - Nicholas said gently as he approached. Nyx turned toward him immediately, and the softness in her smile caught him off guard. Months ago, her smiles always looked cautious, fragile, like something offered with apology. Now it reached her eyes. - Hi, Nicky. - she replied warmly. -What's up? - She lifted the glass to her lips. Small and calm movements someone who finally learning how to exist without bracing for impact. Nicholas leaned lightly against the counter, careful to leave space between them. - Do you have a minute? - Of course. - Her voice carried no tension. At least not yet. Nicholas hesitated, because suddenly every sentence he prepared sounded wrong. Too accusatory, intrusive and even too late. - Is... Is everything okay with you? - Nyx blinked once, looking at him. - What do you mean "okay with me"? - I mean... - He scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck, thinking. - You know... Are you really, really okay right now? Like... I mean... - she watched him carefully over the rim of the glass. - You've been through a lot lately, and... - For a brief second, something shifted in her expression. Not fear. Something like... awareness. Like she immediately understood what he was actually asking. But then she smiled again. - I'm okay, Nicholas. - she answered. Too smooth, too practiced. Not in robotic style. Worse. Protective.

As if she already knew how to guard this thing between her and Noah from outside judgment. Nicholas saw that and exhaled slowly. - It's just... - He lowered his voice instinctively. - You and Noah have gotten really close lately. - At Noah's name, her fingers unconsciously drifted toward the onyx stone at her throat. Tiny movement, but very instinctive, and Nicholas noticed immediately that the chain already sat twisted slightly sideways — like someone had been touching it recently.

Like someone touched it often. - He's helping me. - Nyx replied softly. - That's all.

Nicholas glanced briefly toward the doorway, where Noah laughed quietly at something the other employee said. But his eyes?

His eyes were already on them watching.

Always watching.

Nicholas felt his stomach tighten. - I know Noah, and... - he said carefully. - And when he cares about something, or someone... - He paused, searching for the least dangerous wording. - He can become intense. - Nyx smiled faintly - You think so? That's one way to describe him. - The fondness in her voice unsettled him more than anything else could have. Because she sounded calm, like a person, who feel safe. Like Noah's obsession wasn't frightening her anymore. Almost like... Like she'd stepped inside it willingly. Nicholas lowered his voice further, still trying. - I just need to ask you something honestly, okay? - She nodded once. - When he watches you like that... - Nicholas swallowed hard, looking for a second at Noah, then back at her. - Does it ever feel too much for you? - after that fell silence... The cafeteria suddenly sounded very far away. Nyx looked down at the water in her glass, fingers slowly rolling the black stone between them. Then, she answered quietly: - Noah protects me. - simly, instinctively, honest. Like something rehearsed deep inside herself. Nicholas frowned slightly. - Worrying about you is one thing, Iris. - Her eyes lifted back to his. - But this? This feels different. - For the first time, her expression flickered.

Not with fear, but becasue of conflict. Because somewhere deep down, Nyx knew exactly what Nicholas saw. She knew Noah watched every doorway she entered, knew he memorized her routines, her expressions, the cadence of her breathing when anxiety started creeping in, knew his body reacted before thought whenever someone touched her unexpectedly. She knew he hovered around her like something starved.

And worst of all?

Some wounded part of her loved it.

Because Noah never made her feel like she was too emotional, too weak, too broken. His obsession wrapped around every shattered piece of her and treated it like something sacred. She felt safe inside his intensity. Safer than she'd ever felt in her life. - I feel calm. - she admitted finally and Nicholas' chest tightened. After that, Nyx smiled softly then, smaller this time, quieter. - For the first time in a really long time, - she added. And there it was.

That terrifying sincerity.

Because she meant it.

From somewhere deeper in the cafeteria came the sound of low laughter and moving chairs. Noah finally pushed himself off the wall. Not abruptly, not suspiciously.

Just enough. But Nyx noticed instantly. Nicholas noticed that too. The shift in her body was almost imperceptible. A subtle step backward. Tiny. Controlled.

Toward Noah.

As if some unconscious part of her constantly recalibrated herself in relation to where he stood. Like her nervous system already considered him north. - Nicholas. - she said gently, almost apologetically, - I know you're worried. - I am. - But you don't have to be. Everything is all right. - Her voice softened even more. - I'm not trapped. - The words hit him strangely hard, because they sounded less like reassurance and more like conviction she desperately needed to maintain. Before he could answer, Noah approached. The air changed with him.

Heavy. Focused. Protective in a way that felt almost territorial.

He stopped beside Nyx without touching her immediately, but his presence closed around her anyway. Nicholas suddenly understood how everyone else in the office felt whenever Noah stood near her.

Like reaching her required getting through him first. - Everything okay, Nyx? - Noah asked casually, but his eyes were on Nicholas, like he was trying to read him.

Measuring.

Nyx answered before Nicholas could. - We're fine. Right, Nicholas? - Noah's gaze softened instantly at the sound of her voice alone. God. That was almost worse. Then his hand settled lightly against the small of her back. Not forceful, not aggressive.

Just certain.

Certain enough that Nyx leaned into the touch without even thinking about it. Like her body already trusted his hands more than open space. - We should go. - Noah murmured quietly to her. Not an order but not really a suggestion either. Nyx nodded immediately, and Nicholas caught it then - that subtle shift in Noah the second she agreed.

Relief. Possession. Something darkly satisfied.

As though every time she chose him willingly, it fed the monstrous part of him growing quietly beneath the surface. Before leaving, Nyx looked back at Nicholas one last time. Her gaze was calm, warm and certain. And somehow that certainty disturbed Nicholas most of all. Because she didn't look manipulated, she looked devoted. Like she'd found shelter inside Noah's darkness and decided she no longer wanted to leave it.

Noah guided her away with his hand still resting against her back.

Never pushing. Never forcing. Just keeping contact.

Constantly.

Like he needed to feel her there every second or risk unraveling completely. Nicholas watched them disappear down the hallway together and a single thought settled cold and heavy inside his chest:

Either Iris truly understood exactly what Noah was becoming for her...

Or she had already stopped seeing the danger in it altogether.

Chapter X

Chapter VI - Where are you?

warnings: manipulation/insecurity/longing/pain/obsession

***

The car was still running. Noah hadn’t turned it off after parking.

The engine hummed low beneath them, a constant vibration that filled the silence just enough to keep it from collapsing completely. Outside, the street stretched in muted tones—lamps just beginning to flicker on, windows lit one by one, lives continuing in quiet, ordinary patterns that felt… distant. Untouched. Like they belonged to a different version of the world. Iris hadn’t opened the door. Her hand rested on the handle, fingers curled loosely around it, but there was no movement. No decision. Just suspension. - You don’t have to go in like this, Nyx. - Noah’s voice was calm. Not soft or steady. Measured in a way that didn’t try to comfort, only to stay present. She didn’t look at him. - I do, Noah... I can’t keep leaving things unfinished. That’s how he… stays. - The last word didn’t land cleanly. It caught somewhere between realization and something she wasn’t ready to fully name. Noah leaned back slightly in his seat, watching her. Not intensely, not intrusively. Just enough to understand where she was without forcing her to meet him there. - He’s been deciding things for you for a long time. You don’t break that by asking permission to leave. - he said, and her fingers tightened slightly on the handle. - I’m not asking for permission. - No. - Noah replied. - But I can see that you’re still moving like you expect him to give it. - That made her breathe in sharply. Not offended, but exposed.

She finally turned her head, her eyes weren’t uncertain. They were so fucking tired. Deeply tired. - I don’t even know when it started, you know? - she admitted quietly. - When it stopped being... something normal. - She let out a small, hollow breath, still talking. - He always said he was protecting me. From people. From mistakes. From things I wouldn’t understand on my own... - A pause, but long enough to feel the weight of what came next. - And I believed him... - after that her voice dropped. - I thought that was what it was supposed to look like. - Noah didn’t interrupt her, or didn’t soften it. - I thought I was safe, Noah. - she continued, quieter now. - That someone finally… saw me. Knew what I needed before I did. - Her grip on the handle loosened, then tightened again. - And now I keep thinking... - She hesitated, because her throat tightened. - Maybe... Maybe I was just convenient. - these words felt wrong even as she said it. Too small, maybe too simple. Noah’s gaze didn’t shift. - That’s not what you were, Nyx. - She shook her head immediately. - You don’t know that. - I know what I see - And what if I was wrong? - she pressed, her voice rising just slightly... not loud, but strained. - What if I leave and realize he was right? That I don’t know how to function without someone telling me what to do? What if I’m exactly what he says I am? - Silence filled the car. Not empty, but dense. Noah leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms against the steering wheel, his gaze still on her, but now closer, more grounded. - Then you’ll learn. - there's no hesitation in his voice. No cushioning. - With me... But it’ll be you learning. Not him deciding who you are before you even try. - She looked down at her hands. They were trembling. She hadn’t noticed when it started. - I don’t want to be… that person anymore. - she whispered. - The one who needs to be explained. Managed. Fixed.... I don't like me, Noah. But at the same moment I don’t know what I am without that. - Noah exhaled slowly. - That’s the part you’re supposed to not know yet. That's normal, Nyx. At the very beginning, everyone is a bit lost. - She let out a quiet, almost disbelieving breath. - That sounds terrifying, you know...? - I know... It is terrifying. - Again, no hesitation in his voice. Then, after a beat, he added: - But it’s gonna be only yours. - That landed somewhere deeper than reassurance ever could. He shifted slightly, straightening. - I can come with you, Nyx. You don’t have to do this alone. - She froze at that, but not because she hadn’t expected it. But because part of her wanted to say yes.

It was too easily. Too quickly. - No, Noah. - The words came out softer than she intended. But it stayed. Noah didn’t argue immediately which made it harder. - Nyx... - I have to do it myself. - she said, turning to him fully now. There was something steadier in her eyes, not absence of fear, but something pushing through it. - If you come in there with me… it’ll become about you. - Her voice steadied further. - He’ll twist it. Make it about you. About us. About anything except what it actually is. - She swallowed hard. - And I need him to hear it from me. - Noah held her gaze long enough to make sure this wasn’t hesitation dressed up as resolve. - And if he doesn’t let you leave?

The question was quiet. But it carried weight.

Her fingers tightened again, not on the door this time, but on her. - I’ll... I'll leave anyway. - It didn't sound confident, and that hurt Noah the most. Noah watched her for another second. Then nodded once.

Not agreement, but acceptance. - I’ll be here. - he said. - However long it takes. And if you walk out that door and don’t have anywhere to go... - He didn’t finish the sentence immediately. Didn’t rush it. - You can stay with me. As long as you need. No conditions. No expectations. - she looked at him then. - That’s exactly why I can’t let you come in... she said quietly. And then, a faint, tired exhale. - Because you make it sound easy to fall into that. - Noah didn’t smile, but something in his expression softened. Not triumph, or relief. Just… understanding. - It’s not easy, Nyx. It’s just not supposed to hurt the way you’re used to. - That stayed with her. Longer than anything else. Finally, she turned back to the door, and this time, her hand didn’t hesitate. For a second—just one—she closed her eyes. As if bracing not for him. But for what he had made her believe about herself. Then she opened the door, cold air slipped inside the car. Sharp and immediate.

Real.

She stepped out didn’t looking back right away. But just before she closed the door... - Noah? - He looked at her. He looked at her as if she were a miracle and couldn't hide it. - I’m scared. - He felt as if someone had tightened an iron band around his heart. - I know. But... I'm here. For you, Nyx. - A small nod from her. Barely there. Then she closed the door.

Noah didn’t move, didn’t turn off the engine. Didn’t look away.

He watched her walk toward the building, toward the place that had once been defined as safety. Now— something else. She didn’t stop, didn’t slow. Didn’t turn around again.

But just before she disappeared inside, for a fraction of a second, her hand tightened at her side. As if holding onto something invisible. Something she refused to let go of this time. And Noah stayed exactly where he was. Because this part, this first step, had to belong entirely to her.

Even if everything after it… didn’t. *** She shouldn’t have come back alone. Iris knew it the moment the door clicked shut behind her. The apartment hadn’t changed, that was the first thing that felt wrong.

Everything was exactly where it should be—shoes by the entrance, the faint smell of his cologne still clinging to the air, the jacket he always left draped over the chair like he would be back in a minute.

Like nothing had happened.

Like she hadn’t already crossed a line she couldn’t uncross. She stood there for a moment too long, her hand still resting on the handle, as if the door might open again on its own and undo the decision.

It didn’t.

The silence pressed in instead. Heavy. Familiar. - Iris.

His voice came from deeper inside the apartment. Calm, not even surprised. That made her stomach tighten. Christian stepped into view slowly, like he had all the time in the world. No sudden movement, no visible anger. Just that same controlled presence that always made everything feel smaller around him. - I was wondering when you’d come back.

Not if.

When. - I just came for my things. - she said. Her voice sounded distant to her own ears. Too flat. Too rehearsed. She moved past him before he could close the distance, heading toward the bedroom. She didn’t want to stop. Didn’t want to give him space to build anything between them.

Because that was what he did. He didn’t block.

He built. - Iris. - Closer now, but she ignored it and go to the wardrobe. She pulled out a bag. Her hands moved quickly, mechanically; clothes, essentials, anything that felt like hers. Something she could take back. Something that hadn’t been shaped by him. - You’re not even going to look at me?

His tone shifted slightly. Not louder, but sharper. Like a thread being pulled tighter.

She exhaled, and turned. That was her first mistake.

He was closer than he should have been. Not touching her, not yet, but already inside her space. - I don’t want to do this again. - she said quietly. - I’m just taking what’s mine and I'm leaving. - Leaving where? - His question wasn’t curiosity. It was placement. Like he was deciding where to put that answer once she gave it. - That’s not your problem anymore. - For a second, just a second, something flickered across his face. Not anger, but something really colder. - You’re going to him. - Not a question this time. A conclusion. Carefully delivered one. Iris felt it immediately, that shift inside her chest. That familiar tightening, the need to explain, to correct, to prove something. She swallowed it down. - I’m leaving, Christian. That’s all that matters.

He laughed. Softly. And that was worse than shouting. - Do you even hear yourself, honey? - he said, stepping closer. - You walk out, disappear, and then come back here talking like you suddenly know what you’re doing? - She didn’t step back. - I know enough. - Do you? - he was closer and now she stepped back. One step.

He noticed. Of course he did. - You think this is about you finally "choosing yourself"? - His voice lowered, each word placed carefully. - You think this is strength? - - Another step to her. - It’s not strength, Iris. It’s confusion. - No. - The word came out faster than she expected, stronger too. For a moment, it surprised both of them. Christian tilted his head slightly, studying her like something unfamiliar. - He did this to you. - his voice was quiet and certain. Iris shook her head. - No, I... - You didn’t have these thoughts before him. You didn't think that way until that asshole targeted you. - he cut cleanly, leaving no room to finish. - That’s not true... - You didn’t question me before him, Iris. - Another step. She hit the edge of the bed. Nowhere left to go without breaking the line completely. - And now suddenly you walk in here. - he continued, voice almost gentle now. - Packing your things, and act like I’m the problem? - He smiled slightly. - You don’t even see it, do you? - Something wavered inside her. Just for a second.

And he saw it. - That’s what he does, honey. - Christian said softly. - He finds people like you. People who don’t know who they are yet. - His hand lifted, but not for grabbing, not forcing, but just resting lightly on her arm. Guiding, familiar. - He fills your head with ideas. Makes you feel special. Different. Like you’ve been missing something your whole life. - his thumb slowe brushed against her sleeve. - And you believe him. Because it’s easier than facing what you actually are without someone holding you together. - Iris’s breath caught.

There it was.

That old fracture. The one he always found. - You think he cares about you? - Christian’s voice dropped further. - He doesn’t. He wants you. That’s it. Nothing more, Honey. And once he gets what he wants… you’ll be right back here. Except this time, there won’t be anything left to come back to. - Silence fell. Heavy. Iris felt herself beginning to sink beneath the surface of his words again. She felt herself sinking into darkness and doubt. - You’re wrong. - The words came out, but weaker now. Christian’s expression softened instantly.

That shift—so fast it almost hurt to see. - Iris… - His hand slid more firmly around her arm now. Not enough to hurt, but enough to stay. - Look at you. - She didn’t want to. He tilted her chin slightly. - You’re shaking. - he murmured. She hadn’t noticed.

Now she did. - You think this is freedom? - he continued quietly. - You can’t even stand steady without someone telling you what to do next. - His gaze held hers. Unmoving. - That’s not independence. That’s dependency. You just changed who you depend on. - The words sank in.

Too easily.

Too deeply. - And I’m the only one who’s ever actually stayed, Iris. Who’s ever actually dealt with you when you fall apart. - and then, a pause. Long enough to settle. - You think he’ll do that?

Something inside her faltered. Not completely, but enough. And Christian felt it. Of course he did. His grip tightened slightly.

- You’re not going anywhere tonight. - decided for her, which at that moment sounded like concern. - I am. I'm leaving. - But it didn’t sound like before. He shook his head slowly, almost disappointed because of her words. - No. You’re overwhelmed. You’re confused. And you’re letting someone who barely knows you make decisions you’ll regret later. - His hand moved from her arm to her shoulder. Then—gently, firmly—he guided her to sit. - You’re staying here. Just for tonight. - I didn’t agree to... - You don’t have to agree, Iris. - he said soft, sound like a final.

The room felt smaller. The walls closer. Air heavier. - I’m protecting you. - Christian added quietly. - From him. From what he wants from you. - Iris looked at the door. It felt further away than it had when she entered.

Unreachable.

And somewhere, beneath the fear, beneath the doubt he had so carefully placed back inside her, something else stirred.

Faint, distant memory of a hand holding hers.

Not guiding, not controlling.

Just… there.

It flickered.

Too weak.

***

Nothing ended.

It only lost its shape.

Iris didn’t come back to work. Not the next day. Not the day after. Not the day after that.

At first, it passed like a small irregularity, like something people noticed, then smoothed over with routine. A chair left empty. A name skipped in conversation. A presence quietly removed from the pattern.

But absence, when it lingers, stops being neutral.

It begins to take form.

Christian understood that. He didn’t push the story forward. He adjusted it.

He spoke carefully, almost softly. Always as if he were choosing his words for her benefit, even when she wasn’t there to hear them.

- She needed space.

- She wasn’t feeling like herself.

- You know how she gets sometimes.

And after these words, he eventually added sometimes:

- Noah got into her head.

It wasn’t a accusation. No confrontation.

Just placement.

Like moving a piece slightly to the left so the entire board shifts without anyone noticing.

And Noah heard everything, byt he didn’t respond.

He just watched and listened.

The office changed in small, almost imperceptible ways. Voices lowered when he entered, conversations folded in on themselves, laughter stopped too quickly, as if it had crossed a line it didn’t see.

People didn’t avoid him.

They adjusted around him.

And Iris… became something that was talked about more than remembered.

Noah stopped trying to correct anyone. That would have been too direct.

Too visible.

Instead, he started writing again. His notebook returned like a reflex he hadn’t realized he still carried, but the entries were different now. Not full thoughts or conclusions.

It was just a fragments.

„Mention of her name delayed in conversation.”

„Shift in tone when referring to absence.”

„Eye contact broken before finishing sentences.”

And once;

„No one states when she stopped coming.”

He stared at that line longer than the others. Because he knew. He had to know.

But the memory didn’t settle cleanly.

It moved.

Like something had reached into it and adjusted the edges.

Christian stayed ahead, Not through speed, but through control. Every version of the story reached people already shaped, already softened. Already believable.

And Iris. She’s still remained unreachable.

Noah tried to call her once.

Only once.

The silence on the other end wasn’t empty. It carried something. A weight. A listening that didn’t respond.

He didn’t call again.

Instead, he started walking.

Not with purpose, but with repetition. The streets she used to cross, or places she used to pause without thinking, even the corners that held no memory, but something like the outline of one.

Nothing confirmed she had been there.

Nothing proved she hadn’t.

But Noah kept searching, as increasingly difficult scenarios arose in his mind. His silent, yet unnamed obsession slowly began to gnaw its way from deep within him. From a place he had tried to keep closed all these years.

The city began to feel like a map with removed pieces. Not erased, but lifted.

And at night... At night his sleep stopped coming. At first, it was restlessness, just body that refused to settle, mind that replayed details too precisely, too sharply. Then it became something else. Like... Something like silence that stretched too far. Thoughts that didn’t loop, but continued. He would lie still, eyes open in the dark, tracking the shape of the ceiling as if it might shift when he stopped looking.

Counting breaths that didn’t slow. Listening for something that never fully arrived. And every time he closed his eyes... Fuck. Every time he closed his eyes, it was torture because he saw her.

Not clearly, nor completely, but he saw her fragments.

The way her hand tightened slightly before letting go, that pause in her being before she spoke, even that moment she chose something and didn’t trust it yet. He tried to hold those images in place, but they didn’t stay there. They insolently slipped and changed into something else, rearranging into something less certain. Sleep became something dangerous... Because it meant losing the exact version of her he still remembered, so he stayed awake, his hours blurred, nights folded into mornings without transition.

The world outside continued on schedule, but his sense of time thinned.

He stopped checking it. At work he functioned like always, precisely, mechanically even. Every movement deliberate, every word measured.

Like every fucking time he locked himself in his own head because he couldn't cope with the world.

Funny, because no one truly asked him if he was tired. They just saw it.

But they chose not to name it. Maybe it was because they believed that Noah, who was an idealist, was unable to win the war of the girl and hence his condition?

And Christian... Christian moved through the space like nothing had shifted. Still controlled. Still careful.

Still placing things and words where they needed to be. Christian spoke. He said Noah tried to win Iris over, exploiting her insecurities and low self-esteem. Christian whispered that Noah wanted to get into her pants because he thought that since the band had become famous, he could have any girl he wanted. Even a taken girl. Christian sacrificed himself, lying, cheating, and acting better than many actors. And people believed. Or "just" started to doubt Noah.

Their eyes met sometimes.

Not for long, but just enough. Christian smiled once. It wasn’t triumph, but Noah knew that was recognition. Like he understood something Noah hadn’t said out loud yet.

That this wasn’t just about Iris anymore. That something had already begun to take hold. Noah returned to the stairwell once, that damn door was still there. But closed, unmarked. Ordinary. The same door through which they had left together, which was supposed to be the beginning of change… but instead became a prison for him.

He stood in front of it longer than he should have, his hand almost lifting... But only almost. He didn’t touch these, because something in him understood, without needing a proof, that whatever had changed that night, had not stayed behind it.

Back in his apartment, the nights stretched further. Noah stopped turning on lights, because darkness felt more honest. He'd sit by the window, not looking out, just letting the reflection settle over him watching himself exist in the glass.

Sometimes it's looks like it lagged. But only slightly, not enough to confirm, or not enough to dismiss. And he stopped reacting to that too.

Because reacting meant deciding.

And he wasn’t ready to decide what was real anymore.

The only thing that stayed consistent was the absence. Not empty, quiet, but present. Like something sitting just beyond reach, waiting for him to name it correctly. Waiting for him to understand what it had taken.

Or what it was still in the process of taking.

And in the space where sleep should have been, where rest should have come, where the mind should have softened, there was only one constant, unyielding thought: You didn’t lose her.

You just don’t know where she is anymore.

And that was worse.

Chapter VII - The painful truth.

Noah couldn't stop thinking. He saw and heard, though he didn't want to, every whispered word, saw every smile from Christian, every move of the girl he'd cheated on Nyx with... Everything was a trap. Week after week, day after day – torment and longing for Nyx. Christian's silent triumph. Noah was everywhere, yet he stood in one place. He observed, mentally noting every detail, every reaction and inconsistency. Christian showed up at work earlier than usual, proud to once again cut Iris off from the world. The laughter was louder, the gestures more theatrical, the glances more calculating.

And Nyx was still gone...

Noah felt like time was running out, that each day was another step in a trap where someone was trying to silence the truth. The girl Noah had seen Chris with stood in the corner of the room, uncertain and silent. Her eyes searched for contact, some kind of anchor, as if for reassurance, but everything in the air was tense. Christian's words choked in her throat, but the weight of the atmosphere paralyzed her. Noah walked to his desk, his hands clenched around his notebook, as if he could somehow control the chaos in him. Girl lifted her gaze, focusing on Noah. More whispers after him followed: "Fame has gone to his head." "Noah is fucking his friend's girlfriend." "I think Iris is just a whore, spreading her legs for some fame."

The girl knew that if he spoke up, she'd be the bad one here. After all, she'd been the one who'd screwed a taken guy and then spent weeks letting Noah and the girl who'd been cheated on be made into a monster... She had really enough this situation. She had had enough of blaming innocent people who were victims. - Enough... - she whispered to herself as Christian made another manipulative comment about Noah not listening to him about fucking with other people's girls. - I can't let him hurt them. Not when I'm really the monster... - Noah heard that whisper. He looked up, and their eyes met. The girl standing near his desk finally snapped. And as if that look were enough. The look in the brown, tired eyes of the singer, who couldn't find a moment of peace even at work. That one look, full of hope and a silent plea for it all to simply end. Her voice cut through the din of conversation, echoing off the walls. - For fuck's sake, Christian! Stop it! - she shouted loudly, exploding. - What you're doing is sick! Everyone here sees what Chris has been doing with Iris for ages and no one fucking reacted but Noah! This isn't some crazy game or fun! You can't manipulate people like that, Christian! - The entire room fell silent. Eyes turned to her, to Noah, to Christian. Noah raised an eyebrow, waiting. Christian paled, clenching his jaw, trying to regain control. Noah felt the air grow even heavier, stifling with tension. The girl turned to Christian, her hands trembling like crazy. - You betrayed her, not the other way! - she exclaimed, her voice was trembling, but confident. - And now you want to make everyone think Noah is the problem?! He wanted to protect her from you! From your words to her! How many more lies you want to say?! How many more manipulations?! - Noah watched everything, obsessively tracking Christian's every move, every reaction. He was willing to do anything to protect Nyx from the truth before she could believe the lie herself. Christian, though trying to remain calm, was trembling slightly in his hands. - Stop talking bullshit, Anne. - he snapped, but his voice sounded hollow and artificial. - Everyone knows you have a crush on me, and you'll do anything to destroy me out of jealousy! - The girl froze, as if someone had ripped her heart out, but Chris felt he could no longer completely control the situation, which Noah had already absorbed in his mind. Noah moved closer to the girl, his gaze never leaving Christian's. - I am begging you, tell the whole truth... - Noah whispered, swallowing hard. - Don't let him destroy Iris and her good name… Please. Don't be intimidated. - he add quietly, low, almost like a whisper. - Please… - girl looked at him with relief, as if she could finally breathe a sigh of relief. As if she needed reassurance that she was doing the right thing. Christian felt his narrative crumbling, his web of lies beginning to crack. The girl couldn't stay silent any longer. She had had enough. She stood still, trembling, and her voice finally broke free: - Christian cheated on Iris with me. I didn't knew they were together, so I let him sleep with me. And Noah... Noah saw us, thats why Chris had broken nose. - she began, and a wave of whispers spread across the room. - Back then... Christian said they weren't together anymore. He also told me that Iris was tiring, that she was clingy, that if she couldn't obey... - She hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath, and her cracking voice filled the room again. - He said that if Iris couldn't obey, he'd find someone who would obey in bed. - The words filled the room, bouncing off the walls, permeating every corner of the office. There was no need to whisper. There was no need to mask the truth. Christian stood opposite, as if unaware that every sound, every syllable, was spreading like a vortex. Her tone was confident, seeking relief. - He said Iris needs to know her place and boundaries like an obedient bitch. And if she doesn't respect them, she'll find someone who does...

- Shut up! - Chris growled.

- No! - the girl shouted back. - You're not going to make a monster out of Noah because you're afraid of the truth! - she spoke loudly, unabashedly. The words were like a sharp knife, cutting through the silence of the office.

After these words, whispers began. Some were quiet, others more discreet. Everyone whispered, glancing at the calm Noah and Chris, who was pale, furious, and looked like someone who had just lost all credibility.

Noah exhaled, but only for a moment. Suddenly his heart pounded, a strange anxiety gripping his lungs, making it difficult to breathe.

No one knew Iris was behind the door.

And Iris had no idea that Noah, standing in the dark corner, had sensed her presence instantly.

Iris's heart was shattering, and Noah sensed it unmistakably. She didn't need to say anything. She didn't need to move. Noah's obsessive, cold perception captured every twitch of her body, every shift in her breathing, every shadow in her eye, which looked as if it were crying from within. He turned slowly, almost ceremonially, as if every movement had been calculated down to the last millimeter. And then he saw her eyes.

Iris's large, tearful, grey-green eyes, beyond the half-open door, between the doorframe and the room. Her eyes spoke volumes about what she felt. Pain. Betrayal. Helplessness.

Noah felt adrenaline and obsession permeate every muscle in his body. There was no time for calculation, no room for hesitation.

- My Nyx... - he whispered almost imperceptibly, so only she could hear. Behind the door, Iris shuddered, and Noah, standing still, felt every quivering breath she took.

The truth had been spoken. It was their shared secret language now — full of pain, truth, and danger.

There was no turning back.

There was no hiding anymore.

The line had been crossed.

***

Noah stood outside her door longer than anyone could have imagined. The hallway in her apartment was silent, almost breathless. Every step he took felt like a threat. The light flickered, casting a cold, dead glow on the walls. Her roommate had let him in. And though this place offered no safety, in his mind, Noah felt he was the only one who could bring it. He raised his hand and... hesitated. A thousand versions of what he could say ran through his mind, each sounding too small, too light, as if words had no power to protect her from what lay beyond. Every silence, every second of delay, was like a torture. Her roommate had let him in without asking questions. Maybe she had seen the panic in his eyes. Maybe she understood that Noah was already too far gone to leave. He stood there motionless, staring at the door as if he could see through it. As if, beyond the wood and locks and silence, he could still feel her heartbeat. His hand rose slowly, but stopped halfway. Hesitated. Because suddenly nothing he could say felt enough. Not after what had been done to her.

Not after watching her slowly disappear while everyone else pretended not to notice.

A thousand versions of this moment had played in his head during the drive there. Words meant to soothe her. To calm her. To convince her to let him in.

But now every sentence felt weak. Empty. Fragile.

Useless against the kind of pain she carried. - Nyx... - he whispered at last, his voice was roughened by exhaustion and something dangerously close to desperation. - Nyx, open the door for me. Please. - Her name caught painfully in his throat. It sounded less like a name and more like a prayer he wasn't sure deserved an answer.

Or maybe a vow.

If she didn't open the door now, he would still stay. He would still protect her. Even if he had to do it from the other side of the wall.

He knocked again, this time harder and more certain.

But underneath that confidence, panic was spreading through him like poison.

This time his voice was soft, careful and yet every syllable carried the unbearable weight of the past weeks. Every hour she had disappeared. Every moment he imagined her alone with the aftermath Christian had carved into her mind. The silence beyond the door became unbearable. Noah listened obsessively. Every shift of wood. Every rustle. Every tiny sound that proved she was still there. Still breathing. When no answer came, he slowly slid down until he sat on the floor beside her door, his back against the frame. Somehow, being there, beneath her door, close enough to feel the cold radiating through it, felt for him more important than anything else in the world. There was no strategy anymore. No plan. Only instinct. Stay close. Protect her. Do not leave. - I know it hurts, Nyx… - he said quietly, staring blankly at the opposite wall. - I know someone tried to destroy you. I know he made you feel small enough to disappear…. - His jaw tightened when he say it. - But I'm here. -The words came softer now. Dangerous in their sincerity. - And I won't let anyone hurt you again. Ever. - On the other side of the door, Iris pressed both hands against her mouth to stop herself from making a sound. Because hearing kindness now hurt almost as much as the betrayal. For days she had existed in darkness. Curled beneath blankets that smelled stale and cold, sleeping in fragments, waking in panic, unable to tell if hours or entire days had passed. She barely ate. Sometimes she forced herself to drink water only because the headaches became too violent to ignore. And every time she closed her eyes, she heard Christian again. You're too emotional. Too difficult. Too sensitive. Not enough. The words had nested themselves beneath her skin like rot. So hearing Noah outside her door — so patient, steady, still there, for her — felt unreal enough to make her chest ache. And he was kept talking. About ordinary things, or the weather. Something stupid someone at work had done. Even a memory about coffee she once hated but drank anyway because she liked the smell. Small things. Safe things. But every detail carried intention, and every word was Noah trying to build her a bridge back to the world. Minutes passed. Then hours. And still he refused to let silence consume her completely. Finally, Noah leaned forward and placed his hand flat against the door, pressing his fingers hard enough against the wood that it almost hurt. - I'll come back tomorrow. - he whispered. - And the day after that. And the next one too. - His forehead rested against the door now. - No matter how long it takes. - But there… Still no answer. Only silence. Heavy. Suffocating. But Noah couldn't leave. Because walking away now would feel like abandoning her to drown alone. And he already knew he would destroy himself before allowing that. Behind the door, Iris sat trembling on the floor beside him without him knowing. Her knees pressed tightly against her chest, tears sliding silently down her face. For the first time in what felt like forever, someone wasn't asking her to shrink. Someone wasn't asking her to endure quietly. Someone had stayed. And Noah — sitting only inches away on the other side of the door — stared at the wood with exhausted obsession, ready to fight a world she no longer had strength to survive alone. And in that moment, nothing mattered more to him than remaining there until Nyx finally believed she didn't have to suffer by herself anymore.

***

For two weeks, Noah returned to the same door. Always at the same time. Always with the same, quiet, almost obsessive hope, which grew more frayed with each passing day, but refused to die. He knocked. He spoke. Sometimes for a long time, sometimes just a few sentences. There were days when he told her banal things, just to make her feel like someone was still on her side. There were days when he remained silent with her, counting his breaths, trying to immerse himself in the silence as if it might become the only bond still connecting their worlds.

She never answered.

The silence was painful for the first few days. After a week, it became terrifying. Noah felt it physically: in his throat, in his chest, in his hands, which clenched painfully. Each day without a response from Nyx burned him from the inside. He began to notice small signals. Piles of unanswered letters at the door, the smell of food she hadn't touched, cooling outside until someone took it away. Lights that never came on. Every detail was like a warning sign, telling him to stay closer, to watch, to be vigilant.

It felt less like she was hiding and more like she was slowly disappearing. And Noah couldn't survive the idea of arriving one day too late. What he didn't know was that on the other side of that door, Iris had stopped recognizing herself. The apartment curtains remained shut day and night until time lost meaning. Morning and evening blurred together into one endless gray existence. She barely slept. When she did, nightmares dragged her awake again — Christian's voice in her ear, cold laughter, hands gripping too tightly, accusations twisting around her throat until she couldn't breathe. Sometimes she thought she still heard him inside the apartment. A shift in another room. A floorboard creaking. A phone vibrating. Every sound made her heart stutter violently against her ribs. She stopped eating properly after the first few days. Hunger became distant, numb, irrelevant. Her stomach cramped painfully, but even that felt easier than existing. She stayed curled beneath blankets for hours, staring at nothing, feeling shame cling to her skin like something rotten she couldn't wash away. Because the worst part wasn't even the betrayal. It was what Christian had left behind inside her.

The voice.

That awful voice that sounded like her own now. Too sensitive. Too emotional. Too difficult. Too much. Not enough.

By the second week, even Noah's voice through the door hurt her. Not because she didn't want to hear it, because she did. Too much. Every soft word from him cracked something inside her chest open wider. Every promise of safety made her realize how terrified she'd truly been all this time. And there were moments — horrible, selfish moments — when she pressed trembling fingers against her mouth just to stop herself from opening the door and collapsing into him completely. But fear always stopped her. Because what if Noah eventually saw her the way Christian did? That broken, exhausting, pathetic girl. So she stayed silent and Noah stayed outside. Until the fourteenth day. That evening, he lingered longer than usual in front of her apartment. His shoulders were rigid beneath his jacket, tension visible in every line of his body. His hands trembled despite being buried deep in his pockets. Every breath felt wrong. Sharp. Incomplete. Something inside him was screaming. He looked at the untouched plate near the door. Then at the silence. And something finally snapped.

Enough.

He knocked once. No answer. Again only silence. Burning. Suffocating. Wrong.

ENOUGH.

- Nyx. - he said lowly, too sharply, desperation roughening every syllable. - I’m coming in. - He waited three seconds. Maybe four. Long enough to give her the chance to stop him. Too short to let fear convince him to leave again. Then he tried the handle. The door gave way immediately, as if even it understood he couldn't stay outside anymore, room smelled stale. Heavy. Like grief left untouched too long. Darkness swallowed almost everything except for the thin strip of hallway light stretching across the floor toward the bed. And there she was. Curled tightly on her side beneath tangled blankets, wearing an oversized faded sweatsuit that looked like it was hanging off her bones. Her face looked almost translucent in the dimness, cheekbones sharp from days without eating properly. Her hair was messy, matted in places from exhaustion and neglect. Even asleep, her body looked tense, as though pain had followed her into unconsciousness and refused to let go. Noah stopped breathing for a second. It wasn't an explosion. Or not rage in the usual sense. Something colder. Something devastatingly quiet. Because seeing Nyx like this felt less like heartbreak and more like witnessing someone slowly die in front of him.

And Christian had done this.

Every cruel word. Every manipulation. Every moment that taught her she had to shrink herself to survive someone else's love. Noah felt it all settle inside him like poison. He approached carefully, each step controlled, restrained. Like approaching a wounded animal that might panic and disappear if startled too suddenly. He knelt beside the bed slowly and rested his hand against the mattress near her body, not touching her yet, but close enough to feel the weak rhythm of her breathing through the fabric.

- Nyx. - he whispered. Her name sounded almost painful coming from him now. - I’m here. - She flinched violently at the sound. Her eyes opened slowly, and Noah felt his chest cave in at what he saw inside them. Fear. Exhaustion. Shame. And beneath all of it — relief so fragile it looked like it might destroy her. The moment she recognized him, tears spilled immediately down her face. Not dramatic or loud. Just silent, devastated tears from someone too exhausted to keep pretending they were okay. And that hurt Noah more than if she had screamed. He helped her sit up carefully, supporting her trembling body against him. She felt terrifyingly light in his arms, almost weightless, as though the world had already started taking pieces of her away. The second she leaned into him, Noah's entire body reacted instinctively.

Protect her. Hold her. Stay with her. Don't let her disappear.

Nyx buried her face against his chest and broke quietly, not sobbing violently. Worse. Those small, shaking breaths that sounded like someone trying not to fall apart completely. Noah closed his eyes briefly and held her tighter. Not possessive. But protective.

In the bathroom, he turned on the light and drew a bath, the water steaming heavily to warm her thin, tired body. His every movement was gentle yet confident, was filled with care and caution. He carried her into the bathroom and sat her on the floor, which he had covered with a soft towel. She didn't argue; she didn't have the energy. Noah removed her sweatshirt and T-shirt, trying not to look as he wrapped the towel around her body. He made sure she felt warm and safe. There was no room for accidents. Every action was a ritual of protection. He didn't stare at her naked body. Not because he didn't want to, but because he couldn't stop if he does. He undressed her and lifted her easily, and she sighed softly at the feeling of the warm water warming her aching body. He sat next to the tub, leaning against its edge, listening to her breathing. He didn't speak, because his presence spoke louder than words. Every minute she was safe was a victory for him. He washed her hair, then helped her wash her body, and his touch was unambiguous, trembling, cautious. He felt her ribs under his fingers. He felt her shiver with cold and exhaustion. Then he helped her out, sitting her on his lap. He held her firmly, as if she were in her place, keeping her from slipping, and dressed her, wrapping her in soft, clean sweatpants and a blanket. He dried her hair, combed it, admiring its scent and softness. When she wasn't looking, he nuzzled her brown tresses and closed his eyes, feeding her lungs with her warmth. Then he carried her to bed, settling her between the pillows and sheets. He didn't care that he'd never been there before. He went downstairs to the kitchen, brought her food, and fed her slowly, carefully, as if each bite were an act of saving her world. He didn't look at the quantity, because what mattered was that she ate at all. When she lay back down on the bed, he covered her with the blanket. He didn't hold her, didn't pull her close. He simply was there. He lay beside her. Her back touched his chest, and he felt every trembling breath, every sigh that filled him with rage at the world for hurting her so. Suddenly, Nyx turned and hid in his arms, as if seeking safety. Noah froze, his eyes widening. He hadn't expected this. Or the way his arms instantly reacted, enveloping her in a secure embrace. Nyx fell asleep slowly, as if sleep weren't something she took for granted, but a decision she had to dare to make. Her body was still tense, though it grew heavier, increasingly submissive to gravity and the warmth of the arms that held her. Noah felt that moment intimately, that thin line between wakefulness and drifting off, as if her breathing were changing rhythms just for him. First, it slowed. Then it deepened, becoming soft and even. Her head sank a little lower, resting against his chest, and the fingers that had previously gripped the fabric of his shirt now relaxed, leaving only their warmth and burning touch. Noah didn't move immediately. He let a few heartbeats pass. Ten. Twenty. As if testing to see if the world would take this moment back from him.

Only then did his hand twitch.

First, barely perceptibly, his fingertips moved over her arm, over the material warmth of her flesh, where the shivers still echoed. His touch was slow, attentive, almost searching, as if memorizing the shape of something fragile. He didn't press. He didn't demand. He simply was. Nyx sighed softly in her sleep and snuggled closer.

It was enough to make something tighten in his chest.

He moved his hand lower, down her forearm, to her hand, so small, relaxed, vulnerable. He took it gently, not intertwining his fingers, just embracing it, as if afraid a too confident gesture might wake her. Her skin was warm. Alive. Too real for how many times he'd longed for it from afar. Noah bowed his head. The scent of her hair hit him immediately: so soft, clean, saturated with sleep and something that reminded him of safety. He inhaled cautiously. Once. Then twice. As if it were something he had to dose, or he would remain there, sink, lose himself. He rested his cheek against her head, and then, almost unconsciously, his lips brushed her forehead. The kiss was short. Silent. Paused halfway between impulse and control. Nyx didn't wake. Her breathing remained calm, even, and trusting. For her, it was just a dream, a safe space where she didn't have to do anything.

For Noah, it was a fight.

He closed his eyes, still holding her hand, feeling the warmth of her arm beneath his fingers, the scent of her hair, the weight of her body. He allowed himself one last kiss on her forehead, this one more like a promise than a gesture.

- Sleep, my Nyx. - he whispered so softly that the word vanished before it touched the air. And then he stilled, like a guardian who knows he's not allowed to want more, who already wants everything.

Because he wouldn't let her disappear, wouldn't let anyone rob her of her peace. No matter how long he had to sit here until Nyx felt safe. No matter how many days, nights, silences. He would be with her. And no one would dare change that.

***

Morning didn't come suddenly. It spread slowly, timidly, as if he weren't sure he had the right to enter this room. The light filtered through a gap in the curtains, soft and milky. Nyx lay still, gazing at that brightness that, for once, didn't hurt. Noah rose silently. Every move mattered, as if each one were a decision. He closed the door to her room before going downstairs and making coffee. He turned off the sound on his phone. He replied to two texts with one sentence, without explanation: "I'm out today." He didn't ask for permission. He arranged the world to be smaller. Safer. For her. When he returned, Nyx was already sitting on the bed, wrapped in a blanket, her knees drawn up to her chest. She looked as if she were just learning where night ended and day began. As if she were learning life all over again. - I made you some tea. - he said quietly, closing the door to her room with his foot. - Not too strong, but it'll warm you up. - She nodded in thanks and accepted the mug with both hands, as if testing its temperature, its weight, its reality. Noah sat down opposite her, on the other end of the bed. Not higher. Not closer. On the same level. - You don't have to do anything today, Nyx. - he added after a moment, taking a sip of his coffee. - If you want, we can sit in the room. If you want to go out... we will. - But... what with work? - she asked quietly, almost in a whisper, feeling tired just from holding the mug. - It'll wait. - There was no defiance or grand words. It sounded like something agreed upon long ago. Nyx stared at the steam rising from the mug. Her shoulders slowly relaxed, her breathing evened out, inch by inch, slowly. - I'm scared. - she admitted suddenly. The words tumbled out of her uncontrollably. Her eyes widened in silent shock. Noah didn't react immediately. He accepted the statement as a fact that needed to be allowed to settle. - What's the most? - he finally asked, still looking at his coffee. She hesitated, her fear of speaking returning. Instinctively, she grabbed a rough onyx stone, rolling it between her fingers. Noah saw it. He saw it and just waited. - That... That it will all come back. to me. That pain... - she finally replied. - That if I show sadness over the betrayal, someone will tell me I'm overreacting. I'm afraid it will make me take a step back and not even notice... - Noah looked up. His gaze was intent, focused, as if memorizing every detail of this moment. - It won't come back. And if it does, it won't go unnoticed, Nyx. - he said. - Because you're not alone anymore. I'm here, with you. And I can see more. - The sentence hung between them. Not like a promise. Like a structure. Like a foundation she could walk on confidently. Nyx swallowed hard. - What if... what if I can't say 'stop'? - Then I'll say it for you. - he replied calmly, but immediately. - And I won't wait until it's too late. - He didn't add anything more. He didn't need to. There was something hard, steady in his voice that didn't require confirmation. She finished her tea in silence. Then the second. Time ceased to be a sharp instrument; it became soft, flexible. When Nyx finally stood up, she did so slowly, carefully, as if testing the ground beneath her feet. Noah rose with her, instinctively, but didn't touch her. Not until she gave him permission. - Okay. Now you'll eat something light. - Noah said. She nodded. Before leaving for the kitchen, making her apartment feel like his own, he paused in the doorway. - One more thing, Nyx. - he began, turning to face her in the doorway. - If anyone calls, or if someone knocks, remember... You don't have to respond. - What do you mean...? - He found her gaze and smiled faintly. The smile didn't reach his eyes. And there was no hesitation. - I'll do it for you. - The door closed quietly. Nyx sat back down on the bed, listening to this new kind of silence, one that wasn't empty or threatening. One that had boundaries. For the first time in a long time, she felt like the day didn't have to defeat her. Someone holding the line was enough.

***

After eating, they sat in silence for a long time.

Not the tense kind, but the kind one that comes after something that could have happened but didn't. Nyx held the mug, this time of coffee, in both hands, as if it were a point of reference, a constant in the chaos. Noah sat opposite, his back straight, attentive in a way that persisted even when nothing was happening. Someone passed behind the door, close, as if wanting to peek in, but then they left. Nyx's gaze grew uncertain, her body tensing until she heard retreating footsteps. - My heart skipped a beat,,, - she admitted after a moment, as if it were technical information, not a confession. - Stupid, right? - No. - Noah replied immediately, staring at his phone. - That's normal, Nyx. - She looked up at him. - Normal...? - he agreed, putting the phone down. - When someone hasn't had a secure door for so long, every sound sounds like a threat. - He said calmly, still looking at her. - It's not a flaw. It's a reaction. And a completely justified one. - It was that same feeling again. Like someone was calling a spade before she could apologize. Nyx set her cup down. She leaned it more carefully, as if checking if the world was stable. - You think they... - she trailed off. - Everyone at work already knows? Noah didn't ask "what." He knew what she was asking. He thought for a moment, staring at the wall in front of him. - Who am I trying to fool? Fuck. I'm sure everyone knows. - Yes. And no. - Nyx frowned. - What do you mean...? - They only know what were told, Nyx. And were told a version at first that wasn't true. Chris's story. Then, what was said in public, and what you heard yourself, what was true. - Her shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly. - So now I'm... - she searched for the word. -The problematic one. The one who causes tension? - Noah shifted a little closer to her. Still no touch. But the line between them was still clear. - No, Nyx, you're not like that. - he said. - You're only inconvenient to him now. That's the difference - Inconvenient? - Yes. Because you no longer fit his narrative of lies. And that always provokes resistance. - Nyx stared at her hands. For a moment, she looked as if she might shrink again, shrink back into herself. Noah saw it immediately. - Look at me. - he asked quietly but firmly. She did so. Slowly and hesitantly. - You won't make excuses for this. You won't set the record straight. You won't prove anything to anyone. - But... - It's not your job. Not your problem anymore. - he interrupted calmly, without harshness. - Now... It's my role. I was the bad guy, Nyx. I'll fix this. - The words didn't sound heroic. More like the plumb line she needed to avoid falling again. Nyx felt something inside her react with both relief and fear. - What if this all gets worse? - she asked uncertainly. - What if because of this... because of me... it gets worse? I come back, I do something wrong, I hurt you... - Noah straightened up on her bed. He did it slowly but surely. He rested his hands on the mattress, leaning forward slightly so he was in her field of vision, but not above her. In front of her, so she could see him. - Listen to me carefully, Nyx. - he said in a low, deep, slightly hoarse voice. - What's getting worse was already sick, and there was no other option. And you're not the cause of this mess. You're the point where it revealed itself, because you had the courage to say no. - The silence that followed was thick. Nyx swallowed, struggling with her thoughts. - But... What if... I can't make it back? - she asked, afraid she was saying too much. -What if I can't make it thereand I won't be able to look these people in the face…? - Noah straightened, returning to his previous position. - Then you won't go back there. - he replied lightly, shrugging. - Not today. Not tomorrow. Maybe not ever.

Her eyes widened slightly. - Is... is it that simple? Just like that? I need to work. I need to pay the bills… - No, it's not that simple, Nyx. - he admitted. - But it's possible. - He got out of bed and walked a few steps away. He glanced out the window, as if checking for something beyond the room. Then he looked back at her. - First of all, it you, Nyx. After you, is the rest of the world. In that order. Never any other. - Nyx felt a shiver run down her spine. Not from fear. From something new. From the feeling that someone had set a boundary so clearly that she no longer had to do it alone. - Okay. she said finally, sighing deeply. - So... what now? - Noah looked at her carefully. For a moment, as if choosing the safest path. - Now, my Nyx... we'll do something very small. - Like what...? - You'll open the window. - he replied, the corner of his mouth slightly upturned. - And let the day begin on your terms. - She stood carefully and walked to the window to opened it a few inches. The air was cool, fresh, warm. Real. Noah stood behind her, not touching her. But he was close enough that she knew that if she took a step back, if she stumbled, she wouldn't fall.

And that was enough.

Chapter VIII

Chapter V - Shadow of Uncertainty.

warnings: no ones.

***

Christian felt threatened. He could see that Noah wasn't joking and was capable of telling the truth. Therefore, Christian's change hadn't come suddenly. Nor was it dramatic. If someone hadn't been paying attention, they might have missed it altogether. Christian stopped raising his voice, instead speaking more quietly, closer to her ear. With a smile that, from the outside, looked almost like concern. His hands no longer gripped her shoulders; now they simply "guided" her. They guided her to the right places, adjusted her position, held her a second too long when he thought no one was watching. And when someone did, he released her immediately.

"Are you cold?" he could ask in front of the crowd, draping a sweatshirt over her shoulders.

"Be careful, you're tired." he said, taking something from her hands.

"Iris, honey, take a moment to rest."

The words were soft, but their meaning wasn't. Iris began to feel afraid. Not of him, and not directly. She was afraid of the moment when someone would understand his behavior. Because now it was visible. Not in a single gesture. Not in a single scene. In its entirety. In the rhythm. In the way she fell silent faster than before. How she adjusted her clothes with every movement. How she touched her neck more often, even though the chain was shorter, thinner: as if trying to disappear with her. The worst part was that she knew Noah saw. He didn't look at her intrusively, didn't seek confirmation because he didn't need to. He simply recorded. Dates, situations, the moment Christian placed his hand on her back as she passed others. The moment he hissed something in her ear and she stiffened. The moment he adjusted her collar, too quickly, too hard, and looked directly at Noah, as if checking to see if he'd been noticed during this "act of tenderness." He had been noticed. Noah sat alone late one evening, after the room had already emptied. His laptop was open, but the screen was blank. Instead, he had a notebook in front of him. He wasn't writing lyrics. He was writing facts.

New marks on her collarbone - the shape of a thumb.

„It's nothing.” - She said three times in one day.

Christian changes his tone to Iris in public.

Iris falls silent more quickly when someone enters the room.

He paused his pen. Something had dawned on him, something he couldn't take back. It wasn't just "I noticed" on his part anymore; it was "I know." And knowledge was a burden. Because a witness can look away, but someone who sees the truth can't. The next day, Christian caught up with him in the hallway. Confident, cunning, haughty.

- Do you think you're clever? - he asked calmly. Too calmly. Noah stopped and turned slowly.

- I think I'm observant. - Christian smiled ironically at these words.

- You look at Iris as if you were searching for something. - Chris muttered with feigned nonchalance.

- And you act as if you're afraid I might find something. - Noah answered. Silence fell between them. This time, Christian was the first to look away.

- Don't interfere in other people's lives, Noah. I'm serious. You have no right to do that because you're the 'leader' of the team. - Christian said, and his smile gone. - Not everything you see is yours. - Noah smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes when he replied quietly:

- From the moment someone suffers in front of others, it stops being „not my problem”. After this it's „mine problem” too. - Christian froze, anger and fury flashing across his face. He cursed under his breath and walked away. Christian didn't know that Iris, standing a few meters away, had seen everything. And it was then that she realized that what she feared most wasn't Christian, but that someone would finally name what she had tried to keep silent for so long. Because once the truth is spoken, there's no going back to silence.

Noah looked at her, sensing her. There was no question in his gaze, no promise. His gaze was firm, as if he'd already made his decision. And he knew that from that moment on, he was no longer just someone standing by. He was someone who, if necessary, would stand "against” everyone for her.

***

Christian had changed more and more. He was no longer just calculatingly cool. He was vigilant. He watched Iris more closely than before, her every move, her every glance, every second she spent with anyone else. His presence became heavy, sticky, as if impossible to ignore. And he made sure Noah didn't appear beside her.

- Who were you talking to? - he asked when she returned to work after a short break.

- The technical crew. - she replied calmly. - About the lighting.

- Too long, Iris. - He raised an eyebrow. It wasn't a question. Iris felt a familiar tension in the back of her neck. Not long ago, she would have explained herself automatically. Now, something inside her resisted.

- It was just a work conversation, Chris. - Christian snorted softly. - Don't look for a problem where there isn't one.

- Of course. - It only got worse in the hours that followed. He interrupted her. He corrected her pointedly in front of others. When someone addressed her directly, Christian intervened.

- We've already discussed this. - he said, before Iris could even react and respond. - Let’s not complicate things.

At some point, Iris understood something that had been only a vague premonition until then. It wasn't concern. It wasn't love. It was fear of losing control. Understanding struck her painfully but clearly.

- Christian. - she finally said, when they were briefly alone at the table with the plans. - Stop it. - He looked at her as if he didn't believe her tone and her decisiveness.

- Excuse me?

- Stop correcting me in front of everyone. Stop speaking for me. Stop asking who I'm talking to and with my eyes. This is my job." His face hardened. His hands twitched as if he wanted to squeeze her again.

- I'm doing this because someone needs to keep you in line.

- I don't need you watching over me. - she replied immediately, firmly, and the silence thickened.

- Since when? - he asked quietly, hissing each word. Too quietly.

- Since always. - she said confidently. - I just… I thought it was love before. Now I don't see an ounce of love in it... - The word acted like a trigger for Christian. He pushed his chair back sharply, loudly, ostentatiously.

- Ah, now I understand! - he said louder, so someone could still hear. - It's because of him, isn't it? - Iris's heart skipped a beat. She looked around, because she felt that others were watching, still furtively.

- It has nothing to do with him, Christian...

- Of course it does! - he snorted, irritated and loud. - You've been fighting back ever since you started hanging around him. Ever since someone made you think you were more than you really were! - words hit exactly where it hurt most. Iris swallowed painfully, lowering her gaze. She clutched her notebook, stifling a sob. She couldn't cry, not in front of everyone. Not here. Not now.

- It's not fair, Christian... - she whispered, trying to keep her voice from shaking too much.

- No? But it's just the truth, Iris! - he growled loudly. - You're forgettcing who you really are without me! - Iris felt the like ground slipping away from under her feet.

- I... - she began, but her voice broke.

"Don't cry, please. Not here." - she thought.

- Everything you have, you have because of me! - he continued, unfazed by her glazed eyes. - I'm the one who dragged you into this job! And now you're making me out to be a monster because someone else said a few kind words to you?! - Tears welled in her eyes. Anger mingled with the guilt she knew all too well. He was winning.

Again.

Again those nagging thoughts: maybe she was overreacting, maybe she really was ungrateful, maybe...

- Nyx.

This voice was different. This voice silenced the other voices. She lifted her head sharply, hopefully. Noah stood a few steps away. He didn't look like he was eavesdropping. He looked like he'd noticed. And know.

- Are you okay? - he asked calmly, looking only at her. Christian looked at him as if he were an intruder, an enemy.

- Don't get involved in this. - Chris hissed. Noah didn't respond immediately. His gaze was focused solely on Iris.

- You don't have to answer now. - Noah told to her quietly. - But if you want to leave… I'll follow you. - Christian gave a short laugh at Noah's words.

- See? - Christian turned to her. - That's exactly what I'm talking about. He's getting into places he shouldn't! - Iris looked at Chris. At the tension in his jaw. At the anger laced with fear. And for the first time, she didn't back down in fear.

She was fed up. She was fed up with always feeling guilty. She was fed up with Christian knowing just where to push the buttons to destroy her. She was tired of feeling afraid, tired of feeling like she was walking on thin ice. She wanted to fight for herself, just once, and feel what it was like to say "enough" out loud. And maybe she felt it because of Noah's presence. Maybe it was the fact that if she go, she wouldn't be alone. But this knowledge was sweet, light, and she wanted to choke on it.

- Don't make me believe in things that’s not true. - she said quietly but firmly. - And don't decide who I can and can't talk to. - There was absolute silence. Christian looked at her as if trying to find her old self, the submissive one, the quiet one, the terrified one. But he didn't find it. Noah saw it.

And he almost smiled.

- Come. - he said curtly, holding out his tattooed hand to her. She hesitated only a second. When she took his large, strong hand, she felt something she hadn't felt in a long time.

Stability.

She didn't turn around as they left. But she knew she'd just crossed a line from which there was no return. And for the first time — instead of fear — she felt relief.

They didn’t speak at first.

The corridor swallowed their footsteps in a way that felt too deliberate, as if the building itself was listening and deciding what to remember. The light above them flickered once, then steadied, but it didn’t feel like reassurance — more like hesitation.

Iris kept Noah’s hand because if she let go, she wasn’t sure she would stay upright. Not physically. Something deeper. Something that had been held together by fear for so long it no longer knew its own shape. Behind them, the room didn’t erupt.

That was the strangest part.

No shout followed, no immediate pursuit, not collapse of order. Only silence stretching too cleanly, too carefully, like a door quietly closing instead of slamming.

And that silence was worse.

Because silence meant thinking. Christian would be thinking.

They turned a corner. Then another. The building changed texture as they moved—warmer light, then colder again, as if it couldn’t decide which version of reality they were in. Iris realized she was breathing too fast only when Noah slowed his pace slightly, adjusting to her without looking at her. Like he already understood she was barely there.

- We shouldn’t stay in the main corridors. - he said finally.

His voice was low and controlled. Not comforting. Just precise. Iris nodded without trusting her own voice.

They took a side stairwell. The air there was different. Stale. Unused. It smelled faintly of dust and something older beneath it — metal, maybe, or old paint soaked through too many seasons of humidity. Each step downward felt less like leaving and more like entering something that had been waiting. Halfway down, Iris stopped.

Not because she wanted to, but because her body did it first. Noah paused a step below her.

- Nyx?

She stared at the wall instead of him. The paint was cracked in thin branching lines, like something had pressed from the other side once. Or was still pressing.

- I keep thinking… - she began, then stopped, because words didn’t want to form correctly. Her throat tightened. - I keep thinking I should feel worse.

Noah didn’t answer immediately. When he did, it wasn’t what people usually said to make things easier.

- That will come later.

That simple.

It made her look at him.

- That’s not helping…- she whispered.

- It’s not meant to.

Silence again. Somewhere above them, a door closed. Not loudly. Not urgently. Just… decisively. Iris flinched anyway.

Noah’s gaze shifted upward for a fraction of a second.

Then back to her.

- We need to keep moving. - She wanted to ask where, but the truth was already forming in her chest, heavy and unfamiliar.

Anywhere was the answer.

Anywhere that wasn’t there.

They reached the bottom level, the door at the end of the corridor was not marked. Not even pretending to belong to anything. Just plain metal, slightly dented, with a handle that looked used more by force than intention. Noah stopped in front of it.

Iris didn’t.

She stood half a step behind him, as if distance could still protect her from consequences.

- What is this place? - she asked quietly. Noah studied the door for a moment too long.

- I don’t know yet, Nyx… Maybe it's something new. Or maybe just a brief lull in the chaos. - That was worse than if he had lied to her. Because it meant they were not only leaving something behind.

They were entering something unknow to her.

Something that hadn’t been named.

Noah placed his hand on the handle, but didn’t open it yet.

- If you want to go back… - he said, still not looking at her.

- I'll have to go back someday to finish this... - Iris felt something tighten in her chest after these words. Not fear exactly.

Recognition.

Because “going back” meant Christian’s voice. Christian’s control. Christian’s version of her life wrapped neatly into something she could almost pretend was love if she stood still long enough.

Her fingers curled slightly at her side, when she looked at the door.

Then at Noah.

Then back at the door.

And she realized something unsettling: She wasn’t choosing between safety and danger.

She was choosing between a known cage… and something that had no shape yet at all.

Behind them, somewhere far above, footsteps finally moved.

Slow, measured, not rushing.

Like someone who already knew there was no need to hurry.

Noah noticed too. His hand tightened on the handle.

Iris took one step forward… Then another.

Close enough now that there was no space left for doubt.

- Open it. - she said, and Noah did. The door gave way with a sound that wasn’t dramatic.

Just final.

Cold air breathed out from the darkness beyond, carrying something neither of them recognized — no smell, no light, no confirmation of what waited.

Only depth.

Iris didn’t move immediately. Her eyes adjusted, but found nothing to adjust to.

Noah stepped out first, then he turned slightly, waiting.

She hesitated only once.

Then followed after him.

And as the door began to swing shut behind them, swallowing the last trace of light from the world they had known, Iris realized the silence here was different.

It wasn’t empty.

It was aware.

And it was listening for them to decide what they were now.

Even if she felt the consequences later… she had to run away. Again. But with Noah. Because with him, she was beginning to feel peace.

Chapter VI